


Guided

by Factoids



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:37:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6437584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Factoids/pseuds/Factoids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a short thing inspired by a post I saw ages ago about the Marquis de Lafayette and his wife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s Cat’s idea, or possibly the queen’s, he can’t be sure anymore, but it didn’t sound half so absurd when they explained it to him as is does leaving his own mouth.

It begins with the letter where Elia complains that every noble house in the kingdom keeps finding ridiculous reasons to bring or send their daughters to court. She insists that there had been less of a spectacle for her own son, and his match had been well known long before he would show any interest in low cut gowns and simpering tones so it seems possible, but now that the younger prince is nearing manhood and still unattached the Red Keep becomes ever more crowded.

_I cannot turn a corner anywhere without tripping over a young maiden who has gotten herself lost or carried away admiring our art. Your nephew shows little interest, of course._ _I think he is growing frustrated since he has lately realised why he is suddenly spending much of his time escorting ladies back to their chambers. I fear he intends to take the black, once Aegon produces an heir. I do not think he feels a part of the family and I suspect he seeks to solve it by leaving rather than building a family of his own._

_ Would that we could just marry him to your sweet Sansa and be done with it, but he has been adamant that he choose his own path and I worry that he may do something rash if we push it upon him. Still, I think it would do him much good and she has always been so enamored with the south. She would do well here.  _

It is not an unusual letter, per say. The queen has kept a correspondence with them regarding Jon since her initial request for them to send a northern household for him upon his arrival at the Red Keep, and it is far from the first time she has expressed concern over his sense of belonging. The circumstances of his birth created a rift in her marriage that was never entirely mended, by all accounts the King and Queen have barely spoken in private since, but she seems to consider Jon a favored ward or a nephew.

He doesn’t deny that the match would be a good one. Jon is his blood and has always been an honest child on his way to becoming an honorable man. Sansa would adore the thought of going to King’s Landing and becoming a princess and the queen is right, for all her love of the south, Sansa is northern to her very bones and it could very well help Jon’s sense of displacement among his dornish half-siblings. 

The queen is also right to be worried. He remembers Lyanna and he sees so much of her in both his daughters and no small amount in her son. Jon may well balk at being forced to wed and take the black or cross to Essos in protest. Sansa would no doubt be delighted at the prospect at first but she is every bit the romantic his sister was, and Jon is somber and quiet, and if she meets some knight or lordling with pretty words for her he is not convinced she will not act as Lyanna did.

Catelyn writes back while she claims he is brooding and suddenly, not months later he is signing a petition for his daughter’s hand from the prince by way of his stepmother, without the knowledge of either child.

Ned watches his eldest child attempt to keep a serious expression as this is explained to him. His brother makes no such efforts and once Benjen is guffawing Robb is lost as well.

“You want me to lie to my sister, so that she will believe her arranged marriage to be a love match?”

“Yes.”

“And if they don’t fall in love?” He remembers asking the same question but somehow not the answer that convinced him.

“Your mother and the queen are confident that love can grow between them, and should it not the queen is amenable to dissolving the contract.” How they have become so confident he does not know, but he trusts his wife and his queen and their intent. Still. The children are as strange to each other as any other potential spouses that may cross their paths.

Jon and Sansa only met while very young, too young to have any true memory of the event, but Elia had seen her shortly after her tenth name day, at a tourney she had begged for moons to attend at Riverrun. She had spoken of nothing but the graceful queen for weeks upon her return.

It would be good for them both, he reassures himself again.


	2. Chapter 2

Robb has two weeks to reconcile the absurdity, dishonesty, and apparent frivolity of the plot with his severe and honorable parents before it is set in motion.

They are travelling south, Robb and Sansa, as guests of Jon Arryn. Ostensibly the trip is to build ties with the Vale before Robb ascends to wardenship and Sansa marries, and the tourney they will be attending, hosted by the king and queen, purely incidental.

His part, while more involved than anyone else's, is simple. There is very little deception other than neglecting to mention the betrothal and shepherding the two together. The smirk on the crown prince’s face as they are introduced makes him wonder if Jon’s siblings have been assigned similar tasks. 

Any doubt is removed the following day when Rhaenys invites them both to go riding and they run into Aegon and Jon already saddling their horses to ride into town only to have Rhaenys suddenly challenge Aegon to a race and assign Jon the role of guide to the Starks.

Robb spends the afternoon muffling his sniggering and hurriedly wiping the amusement off his face every time either of the two look back at him where he rides next to Ser Arthur Dayne. He does not need to fake interest in his conversation with the Sword of the Morning. The one between Sansa and Jon seems considerably more stilted.

The tourney passes in a series of awkward encounters he only chaperones in the loosest sense of the word. He loves his sister and enjoys his cousin’s company immensely, but a tourney full of the finest knights of the realm, kingsguard included, provides far more interesting sights than a mumbling prince and a blushing lady.

To his eyes very little was accomplished but the queen smiles mischievously at them as they say a goodbye as stiff as any of their previous interactions so he assumes her plans are progressing somehow.

It is several months before they see the prince again, this time with only his siblings as they tour the Vale with an entourage Jon seems to flee the confines of at every opportunity and Robb notes for the first time that Jon does not avoid Sansa and himself the way he seems to do anyone else.

Soon after the royal visit they return to Winterfell, and to intensely jealous siblings, with tales of travel and tourneys.

Within moons they turn south again, this time with their mother and younger siblings, toward Riverrun. This visit is, as far as Robb can discern, truly not connected to the plot. Hoster Tully is ill and their mother wishes for him to know his grandchildren. King’s decision to grace them with his attendance, along with his youngest son seems at least to be a surprise to his mother.

When they ride north again he watches Sansa cast mournful looks at the road behind them and smirks to himself until Catelyn cuffs him for it.

Robb is not surprised in the least when Prince Jon announces a tour of the northern kingdom, or when the message causes his sister to float around with a permanent smile for days on end.

“Sister! Come join me in the yards.” He has lost count of the times he has asked Sansa to watch him spar. At first it was an easy way to put her and Jon within each other’s line of sight, Jon being what could only be termed overly dedicated to his training, then he started to invite her at home, to lessen her suspicions, and finally he grew used to her presence cheering him on, after her own lady-like fashion of course. It was a pleasant side-effect, growing closer with his sister. They had been inseparable as young children, Sansa following easily where he led, until they both were handed responsibilities and expectations that had them separate instead of play together. There was also the amusing change in his sparring partners the watchful eyes of ladies invariably caused, what with the puffing and blustering and showing off.

“Of course, brother. Whose defeat shall I bear witness to today?”

“One of the Redwynes.” The Redwynes have been a blessing to him whenever they find themselves in the presence of the court, ever close at hand as they seem to be, never far behind their ambitious Tyrell cousins. They are less tedious than most of the giant travelling party that haunts the youngest prince, and always eager for a match.

When it all goes wrong he curses himself for being lulled into complacency.

“Sansa’s betrothed.” Arya bursts into the clearing, panting as though she’s run all the way from the Wolfswood and he almost asks ‘What about him?’ before he catches himself.

Sansa blinks at their sister in confusion. “What?”

“Mother and father were talking about it. Someone northern.”

Robb feels the panic start to set in and then he sees Sansa go white, confusion giving way to her own fear. “Who?”

“Don’t know. They kept talking about mending ties though. Maybe a Bolton, or a Karstark.”

He watches silently as Sansa takes her words in and lets out an unsteady breath. “Roose Bolton has no trueborn sons.” She looks faintly ill and he cannot blame her.

“It won’t be him. Father wouldn’t.”

“Then who? All of Lord Karstarks sons are married or betrothed already, besides which he still wishes for Alys to marry you.” He has very carefully not lied to her. Never once in the two years has he told her a full lie. It is a tenuous thread to be grasping at but there is no honest answer to give her that would not betray his promise to his father and Arya disappeared as fast as she had come, whether to tell Jon or to spy more Robb could not tell. He mutters something about nothing being decided and hopes she will take him at his word without questioning how he could know. There is no relief in her features, not quite upset, only resignation.

He expects his sister to rage, to stomp off in a huff and pout.

She pulls away from him and seats herself back at the edge of the spring.

At some point his sister has grown and matured and what was once a lark feels cruel as he watches her silently crumble. 

Their parents never intended for this false betrothal. Jon and Sansa were to fall in love and Jon would petition for her hand and they would happily accept. It was a harmless enough plan, something to laugh with Arya at over their wedding feast, a silly thing to tease them over when they were all settled with children. He had not truly considered what could happen if it were to fail.

He remembers asking, when his father had told him of their plot, about what would happen if they never fell in love. They had not answered then and he had only ever considered the two outcomes. They fell in love and were wed, Sansa rode off to a life as a southron princess, or they did not, and their parents dissolved the betrothal and other matches were considered. As he watched his little sister stare blankly at the embroidery hoop clutched in her hands he could suddenly think of half a hundred more.

Sansa loved the prince, he could not doubt that. What if Jon felt less for her? They might have an indifferent marriage, or Jon might refuse to wed her, regardless of their parents will. He might love her but be hurt or even angered by their manipulation if he found out. Sansa may find the idea romantic or she may feel betrayed. Jon might suspect she was involved in their plans.

When Jon arrives he does so with quiet steps and a concerned expression and he announces himself with a soft clearing of his throat before approaching them.

Robb helps Sansa to her feet and she sinks into a curtsey.

“My prince.”

Robb gives a curt bow and moves away to grant them some illusion of privacy.

“My Lady. Your sister seemed to believe you were in some distress. Has anything happened?”

“I am well, my prince. I am...”  She pauses, taking a deep breath.  “I am to be wed. One of my father’s bannermen has petitioned for me and my father means to accept.”

“Means to?” Robb almost cheers when Jon latches onto the last part of her declaration.

“Robb says it is not yet done.”

“And this marriage would not please you?”

“My lady mother has always said that love takes work, that I will grow to love my husband in time.” He curses whatever made his sister decide that now was a good time to finally give up her romantic notions for duty but he knows, has always known, that Sansa has ever been a creature of duty. She learned to perform every task and excel at every art that became a lady. She had dutifully ‘fallen in love’ with every potential suitor and dutifully forgotten them two weeks later. She always acted exactly as was expected of her.

For a moment he is sure Jon is going to accept her words and do something stupid like ride home, or worse, for the wall, before their parents can rectify the situation. “And what of” Jon stops abruptly. “Is it” He breaks off again. “You would desire a different match?”

“I would.” She sounds close to tears but if he turns around he will interfere so he stands his ground.

“Marry me. Tonight.” Robb rolls his eyes. Somber he may be, but prince Jon has a tendency toward melodrama. Did the two of them truly believe their match would be so frowned upon as to require elopement? “I would swear myself to you tonight, before the Gods. Please, Sansa.”

“We couldn’t. We can’t.”

“We can. Say the word and we can.”

“Yes. Tonight.”

He does not bother to knock before entering his father’s solar, nor to greet his parents when they look up from their work. “They’re in the Godswood. They intend to wed in secret with myself and Ser Arthur and Arya to witness them. Are you certain you do not wish to tell them of their betrothal?”

“No.” Catelyn shakes her head. “Allow them their ceremony. We will intercept you on your way back to the castle. We will say there is nothing to be done but to have them wed publicly in the great sept.”

“You truly do not intend to ever tell them?” Watching them wed and saying nothing seems like a point of no return. Revealing their deceit when they can no longer choose would just be risking souring what they have.

“They are happy together. That is what is important.”

He tries to repeat those words to himself as he places Sansa’s hand in Jon’s. It mostly works when Sansa’s smile could outshine any flame and Jon cannot look away from her.


End file.
